Heat Lightning

By Anne Stuart

Jassy Turner is drawn to Caleb Spenser, the man they call a killer. But nothing in her genteel background has prepared her for his kind of high-voltage heat. But vengeance against the Turner family churns inside of Caleb, and it is as unstoppable as his intense desire for Jassy. She should have run for cover when she heard trouble coming, because not even her innocence and good intentions can prevent the overdue storm from breaking.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bryant Street Publishing
• Release date: Jun 29, 2021
• ISBN: 9781094417608

Anne Stuart

Anne Stuart loves Japanese rock and roll, wearable art, Spike, her two kids, Clairefontaine paper, quilting, her delicious husband of thirty-four years, fellow writers, her three cats, telling stories and living in Vermont. She’s not too crazy about politics and diets and a winter that never ends, but then, life’s always a trade-off. Visit her at www.Anne-Stuart.com.

Book preview

1

The man was pure trouble. It didn’t take much to see that, and Jassy Turner was a little more observant than most. It came from having to keep an eye out for details, for the little things that could turn triumph to disaster, turn a happy family evening into a screaming tangle, turn a successful fund-raising event into a debacle.

She’d worked hard that hot August day to make sure everything was just right at Belle Rive. The wide, manicured lawns leading down to the river were covered with brightly colored fair booths, with immaculately dressed men in their pale linen suits, with women in their floating summer tea dresses. The children tumbled around at their feet, grubby, noisy, bringing their own vitality to the stifling atmosphere. If it had been up to Jassy, the annual hospital fete, the fund-raising event that had been the Turners’ pet project since the beginning of time, would have been for children only. Except that children couldn’t dig deep into their pockets to keep the tiny little hospital going.

So while the lawns were covered with pony rides and games and even a carousel trucked in from Sarasota, the wide veranda was covered with long, linen-covered tables, and her mother, Claire, presided at the huge silver teapot, the trembling in her hands stilled by a discreet, purely medicinal, shot of vodka.

She’d known these people all her life, Jassy thought, moving through the crowd to the edge of the veranda, resting her hands on the wide stone railing. She’d never been away for longer than a few months, and she knew what every single one of them was thinking as the stranger made his way through the crowds, moving directly toward the veranda.

My God, Jassy, who is that? Mary-Louise Stevenson hissed in her ear, her eyes bright with appreciation.

Jassy couldn’t pretend to misunderstand. The noise from the children below covered up the sudden quiet on the veranda, but the forty or so people enjoying Miz Claire’s tea managed an impressive buzz of conversation. And Jassy knew perfectly well at least half of them were discussing the sudden appearance of the stranger.

I don’t know, she replied, wishing she could turn away, unable to move. She brushed her hands down the length of her pale peach dress, and found they were cool and sweaty on this stifling hot day.

He sure is a hell of a lot more man than I’ve seen around here in a long time, Mary-Louise said with a sigh. The men around here were born wearing suits, I swear. I don’t think I’ve seen that much chest since I saw a Brad Pitt movie last year. The man is absolutely sinful, he’s so good-looking.

Brad Pitt? Jassy murmured.

Him, too, Mary-Louise allowed. But he’s not here. The man who’s heading directly toward us is in the flesh, and what wonderful flesh it is. My heavens, is that an earring he’s wearing?

It is. I think you’d better forget him, Mary-Louise. Your mama won’t allow you to keep company with a man wearing an earring, Jassy said with her first touch of humor.

My mama wouldn’t allow me to keep company with a man who wears shabby jeans, an old work shirt unbuttoned to the waist, and hair hanging down to his collar. However, my mama didn’t raise no dumb chickies. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. I’m certainly not planning on making her privy to all my peccadillos.

Jassy felt a real pang of dismay. Mary-Louise, your divorce isn’t even final yet.

I’m only going to play with him, Jassy. I’m not going to marry him. I’ve just got to figure out how I’m going to plan my attack. She drifted away, deep in thought. Jassy didn’t even turn to watch her go.

He was halfway there now, and he’d stopped to talk to a little boy who was sobbing loud enough to be heard over the general din. At his feet was a smashed ice-cream cone, and the dark-haired child was crying with an enthusiasm found only in the young.

A moment later, after a short, earnest conversation with the stranger, the tears had miraculously stopped. In the next, a replacement ice-cream cone found its way into little Tommy Lee Philips’s grubby fist. His mother was there, casting a wary eye at the stranger, and Jassy watched as he charmed the mother as effortlessly as he charmed the child.

Trouble, she thought again, acknowledging the little burning feeling in the pit of her stomach. And he’s heading this way.

He wasn’t particularly aware of her watching him. He had to know that almost everyone was watching his approach, either openly or covertly, and one pair of eyes wasn’t going to mean any more than another.

Mary-Louise was right: he was more man than they’d seen in a long time. She was surrounded by southern gentlemen, all tall and immaculate in their white linen suits, Princeton basketball players and gentlemen farmers, her own brother, Harrison, included. The man coming up the lawn was cut from a different cloth.

He was tall, but not as tall as the men surrounding her, probably not much more than six feet. He wore scuffed leather boots, dusty, ripped jeans, and a work shirt open to his waist, exposing a great deal of bronzed, glistening chest. The men around her didn’t sweat. Probably because they didn’t do enough hard work to sweat, she thought with a trace of humor.

He was wearing dark glasses in the bright midafternoon sun, and they obscured half his face. His dark-blond hair was shoved back, and there really was a gold hoop in his left ear. A small one, but there nonetheless, and she could just imagine Harrison’s contempt when the man finally had the nerve to reach them.

Except the man didn’t seem to be lacking in nerve. His advance was steady, determined, his walk an inexplicable part of his presence. It wasn’t a swagger—he was too sure of himself to need to swagger. It wasn’t a stroll—he had too much intensity to stroll. It was a combination of both, a purposeful stride that allowed time for distractions like crying children, but moved inexorably onward.

He glanced her way when he reached the bottom step of the veranda. The polite murmur of the well-bred group crowded onto the wide stone terrace abated only slightly, and yet Jassy knew that every eye, every ear of the upper crust of Turner’s Landing was concentrating on the rough stranger’s presence.

Even behind the sunglasses, the heat of his gaze was able to touch her. As it touched all the women present, impartial, seductive, an instinctive flirtation that meant absolutely nothing. If Mary-Louise wanted him she’d probably have no trouble getting him. But not for long.

Jassy? Her mother’s cool, calm voice held not the slightest bit of slur. Thank heaven for small favors. Claire didn’t usually do well on days like these.

Jassy forced herself to turn away from the stranger, moving to her mother’s side with unhurried grace. Do you want me to take over for you, Mama?

I do not. I’m doing just fine. I want you to tell me who that man is, and what he’s doing here.

Even her mother’s somewhat bleary eyesight was clear enough to detect trouble when it walked up her front lawn. I don’t know, Mama, she said. Maybe he just heard about the tea?

Dressed like that? Her mother sniffed with disapproval. Things may have changed, but we don’t have to get slack, dear. I refuse to pour tea for a man who’s not wearing a tie.

He’s not wearing much of a shirt, either, Jassy murmured. As a matter of fact, I don’t think he’s here for the fete, or the tea.

Then what’s he here for? Her mother’s voice was querulous, and Mary-Louise’s mother cast a disapproving glance in their direction.

I don’t know. Mama, lower your voice. Mrs. Stevenson is watching us.

Old biddy, Claire said. She hoped I’d be indisposed this afternoon so she could play the grande dame. As long as I’m on this earth I’ll be the one to pour at the hospital fete. Do you hear me, Jassy?

I hear you, Mama, Jassy said wearily. So does everyone else. In point of fact, no one else was paying any attention to Claire and her daughter. That usual source of gossip was small potatoes compared to the man who’d mounted the wide stone steps and was moving without haste toward the group of people in the center.

Jassy edged away, toward the upcoming confrontation. She didn’t know what she was expecting, or how she thought she might be able to stop it, but she knew she had to try.

She expected the stranger wouldn’t be quite so devastating up close. She’d been wrong. The closer he got, the more overwhelming he seemed. He was a few feet away from her when he stopped, directly in front of her older brother, Harrison, lord of the manor, de facto king of Turner’s Landing.

No one made any more polite pretense of conversation. The citizens of Turner’s Landing were well-bred, but some things were even too much for their ingrained manners. The distant noise of shrieking children provided only a backdrop for the silence that enveloped Harrison Turner and the stranger.

Harrison, immaculate and polite as always, turned to the stranger, an uneasy expression in his brown eyes. Can I help you?

The stranger smiled. He had a wide, mobile mouth beneath the sunglasses, and the smile should have been charming, infectious. Indeed, the men surrounding Harrison managed uncertain smiles themselves. Jassy wasn’t in the mood to smile. She stood there, behind Harrison, ready to do battle to protect her brother, if need be. He might not realize the stranger was trouble, yet. But she did.

I’m Caleb Spenser, he said, his voice a smooth, easy drawl, roughened just slightly from cigarettes, like liquid honey laced with whiskey. I’ve just bought the place down the road and I thought I’d stop by and make your acquaintance. Perhaps I picked an awkward time.

Jassy could see Harrison’s broad shoulders relax. Now’s a fine time, he said, his voice a hearty boom that signaled a return to a semblance of normalcy. We’re having a fund-raiser for our little hospital, and we’re counting on all the local landowners to do their share. I’m Harrison Turner, by the way, and these are some of my friends and neighbors. He introduced the small group of men surrounding him, deliberately omitting Jassy at his shoulder.

Caleb Spenser’s smile didn’t change. Harrison seemed to take it at face value, an affable expression of goodwill. Jassy wasn’t so sure. I’ll be more than happy to do my share, he said in that deep voice of his that sent flutters down half the female backbones on the veranda. Even hers, Jassy had to admit.

Whereabouts did you buy? Harrison inquired, still sounding like the gentleman farmer talking to poor white trash. I hadn’t heard that any land was on the market. His condescending tone suggested that if he had, he would have been certain to have bought it himself, or at least made sure that whoever did purchase it passed his strict standards.

An old place down by the swamp, the man said. Used to be a bordello, I hear.

Harrison’s slightly rosy complexion paled. The Moon Palace? You bought the Moon Palace? What in hell for?

Caleb Spenser shrugged. I kind of liked it. Besides, it’s what I do. I buy run-down places, fix them up and sell them.

You won’t find any buyers for the Moon Palace, Harrison said flatly. This happens to be the one town in the whole damned state of Florida that hasn’t been affected by the real estate boom. If you think you’re gonna turn around and make a killing with some developer, you better think again, son. We’re a tight-knit place, and we like things as they are.

I bet you do, Caleb murmured. But things don’t stay the same. I expect you’ve lived long enough to discover that. He pushed his sunglasses up to his forehead, and Jassy took a deep, involuntary breath, one loud enough to get his attention.

He had the most extraordinary eyes. They were a light, translucent, almost silvery gray, with just a touch of blue in them, like the shimmer of color on a frosty morning. They held just as much warmth. In the tanned planes of his face they made his smile seem the cynical thing that it was. If anyone had any doubt that Caleb Spenser was a man to contend with, all they had to do was look into those clear, cool eyes and they’d know better. Trouble, Jassy thought, as his eyes met hers beyond Harrison’s shoulder. Real trouble.

Do I know you? Harrison demanded, unaware of the byplay going on behind him. You look real familiar.

Jassy felt herself dismissed, as once more those mesmerizing eyes met her brother’s, and Caleb Spenser’s smile was not a pleasant sight. He looked like a shark at feeding time. I’ve never been in Turner’s Landing before, he said, not answering the question.

But I’m sure I’ve seen you before.

Caleb Spenser shrugged. Now that you mention it, you look familiar to me. I used to know someone who looked a lot like you. But his name was Billy Ray Smith, not Harrison Turner.

For a moment Jassy thought her brother was going to throw up. He looked at that cool, smiling intruder with a pale, sickly expression, and Jassy’s worst fears were confirmed. She still didn’t know how, or why. She only knew what.

Sorry, Harrison managed, his voice strained. I’m not in the habit of using aliases.

I wouldn’t have thought so, a fine gentleman like yourself, Spenser said easily, and most people would have thought he’d dropped the notion. Jassy knew otherwise. Would you mind if I looked around, met a few people? I’m planning on being in these parts for a while, and I’d like to find out what kind of people I’ll be dealing with.

Jassy couldn’t stand it anymore. Her brother still looked tense and sick beside her as she stepped into the group. You’re not from around here, Mr. Spenser? she inquired, pulling out all her charm.

I’m from just about every place but here, Miss...?

This is my baby sister, Jacinthe, Harrison said, suddenly protective.

Spenser nodded, getting the message. As I was saying, I’m from about everyplace but the gulf coast of Florida. I’ve spent a lot of time in Louisiana, in Georgia, Tennessee, South Carolina. What time I’ve spent in Florida was mainly on the East Coast. Near a little town called St. Florence.

Once again she felt Harrison’s turmoil, and she knew the obscure name of that town wasn’t an accident.

Well, she said brightly, we’re glad you’re here now. We’re very proud of our little town. Turner’s Landing is one of the few undeveloped, unspoiled towns in this part of Florida. I think you’ll enjoy your stay here.

Oh, I expect to, Miss Turner, he said. I surely do. If the man had had a hat he would have tipped it. Instead, he sort of nodded his head and drifted away, politely enough, but then he was gone. Jassy didn’t move, watching as he wandered over toward the group of women by the railing who’d been watching him avidly, Mary-Louise included. Even from a distance she could see them preen and pout prettily.

She didn’t blame them. She, who was usually immune to that type of flirtation, that type of man, had felt the intense charm he seemed to turn off and on automatically. She wouldn’t be surprised to see Mary-Louise biting his ankles in another minute.

But then he was gone, leaving the women staring after him, hungry looks on their faces. She watched as he worked the crowd, moving from group to group with that same inexorable charm. Harrison stood beside her, watching in the same silence as the men around them turned to a polite discussion of the weather. Caleb Spenser was too close to be discussed, as everyone was longing to.

Claire even poured him a cup of tea. But then, Claire had never been much of a judge of character, starting with Jassy’s father. She seemed to have forgotten her disapproval of his casual attire, and her face looked positively youthful as she looked up at Spenser from her throne-like position behind the huge silver teapot. Jassy could feel Harrison’s outrage, and she turned, half expecting him to join Spenser and Claire. Half expecting him to pick the stranger up by the scruff of his neck and throw him off the terrace.

But Harrison had never been one to deal with things directly. Instead he turned on his heel, disappearing into the house without a word.

Jassy was torn. On the one hand, she wanted to go after her brother, to demand to know what was going on. It was more than clear to her that he’d known Caleb Spenser at some time in the past, and that association wasn’t the slightest bit pleasant. He just as obviously didn’t want people knowing about it.

But it wasn’t an accident that Spenser had showed up there in a crowd of friends and family. And he’d known who he’d find when he reached the veranda—he’d headed straight toward Harrison. It wasn’t an accident that he’d bought the old Moon Palace. The tumbledown building lay on a knoll by the edge of a swamp, and it had been vacant for the better part of twenty years. He’d have no use for it in a conventional sense. Even fixed up and spruced up, he’d be hard put to find buyers. It was too damp, too remote, and as Harrison had told him, Turner’s Landing was on the back end of beyond. The place was unspoiled and undeveloped, not because of any great nobility on the landowners’ parts, but because no one had offered enough money. No one had even been interested.

Jassy glanced behind her, at the closed screen door where Harrison had disappeared. His wife, Lila, for once was unaware of her husband’s absence, as she did her social duties and kept up a conversation with the dragon-like Mrs. Stevenson. No one seemed to have noticed he was gone, and she was torn by her need to go after him, to confront him. And to stay and guard the terrace.

Harrison could wait. She wasn’t going to abandon the battlefield until the enemy had left. And that’s who Caleb Spenser was, for sure. The enemy.

She felt a sudden prickling at the back of her neck. She turned, and found he was standing in front of her, too close, crowding her. She could smell his skin, smell the dust and sweat and heat of him, and she wanted to step back, away. She held her ground.

Mr. Spenser, she said politely.

Just Spenser, he said. Unlike most people around here, I’m not the Mister type.

And what type are you?

Why don’t you find out? he said, soft enough so that even the ruthlessly eavesdropping Mary-Louise missed it.

She was used to this, Jassy reminded herself. She was used to macho men who had to flirt with anything in skirts in order to assert their masculinity. It was just that Caleb Spenser was much better at it than most.

Are you flirting with me, Mr. Spenser? she inquired coolly. Because if you are, I may as well tell you you’re wasting your time. You may have all the other women eating out of your hand, but I’m a lost cause. Anyone around here can tell you that. I don’t flirt, and I don’t respond to men like you.

Men like me, Miz Turner? And just how do you define a man like me?

Trouble, she said flatly, without thinking.

He laughed then, throwing back his head, and his teeth were very white, very large in his wide mouth. Like a shark, she thought again. You’ve got more brains than most of the people around here, he said.

Remember that, Mr. Spenser. You aren’t going to be able to charm me into thinking you’re harmless.

Oh, I wouldn’t ever want you to think I’m harmless, he said softly. That’s half the fun.

Mr. Spenser...

Spenser, he corrected softly. And then he was gone. Moving down the front steps and across the lawn with a graceful stride that wasn’t the slightest bit leisurely. She watched him go, and she shivered in the humid August heat, suddenly chilled.

Well, what did he say to you? Mary-Louise demanded. You were both looking pretty intense. I wouldn’t have thought he’d be your kind of man.

He’s not, Jassy said absently. He was out of sight now, and it was hard to believe he’d ever been there, unsettling everyone. But he

Reviews for Heat Lightning

[Gemma R · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Pretty enjoyable read, this author definitely knows how to create atmosphere!

[judy griffin · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

No